


A Waltz with the Warden

by Fenchurch87



Series: The Eye of the Storm [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Halamshiral (Dragon Age), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 21:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16920531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenchurch87/pseuds/Fenchurch87
Summary: Eve Trevelyan and Blackwall share a moment at Halamshiral. Originally written in response to a writing prompt on /r/dragonage.





	A Waltz with the Warden

“Feast, my friends! Enjoy our victory! There will be many more to come!”

Applause erupted around the ballroom at the Empress's final words. Celene inclined her head graciously towards Eve, a signal that she could step down from the dais. Eve returned the gesture as gracefully as she could and walked carefully down the steps, acutely aware that the entire Orlesian court was watching her every move.

A serving man appeared at her elbow, and she accepted a glass of wine with a grateful smile, taking a long sip as she searched the room for a quiet corner, a space to collect her thoughts. There was nowhere to be found. Wherever she looked, she saw excited, beaming nobles, all trying to catch her eye, all desperate to talk to the woman who had saved the Empress's life. The room was suddenly far too hot, and the wine had taken on a rather bitter taste. Her gaze fell on the empty balcony, no more than a few paces away. If she could just–

“Excuse me... I'm so sorry... Yes of course we will speak later... I just need to... Sorry... Excuse me,” she murmured as she fought her way through the crowd.

Finally, she reached the balcony and pulled the doors shut behind her. Surely nobody would follow her out here and risk missing the ball? She took a deep gulp of the cool night air and sighed in relief. The darkness of the night and the breeze that tousled her hair were a pleasant contrast to the bright lights and stifling atmosphere of the ballroom.

“There are at least a dozen young lords and ladies hoping for some time with the hero of the night,” said a deep voice behind her. Strong but gentle hands came to rest on her shoulders, and then she felt a kiss on the back of her neck. She laughed softly as his beard tickled her skin.

He moved to stand beside her. “And yet I find you here. Alone. Care to share your thoughts?”

She sighed again. “I am afraid that I have made things worse. I may have sent two people to their deaths this evening, and the woman who keeps the throne is no better than either of them. What have I done, Blackwall?”

“Politics,” he muttered. “When all you have are bad options, simply choosing one and hoping for the best is all you can do.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “You stopped an assassination tonight. And the Orlesian throne is secure. I would call the evening a success.”

“Perhaps.” Eve scratched her neck irritably. The tunic was making her itch. “I hate this place. I can't wait to leave and be done with their ridiculous game.”

He chuckled. “The night isn't over yet. May I have this dance, Lady Trevelyan?” he asked, stepping back with a bow.

She found herself smiling, despite her annoyance. “I'd like that, Ser Blackwall.”

He beamed back at her as he took her hands in his and led her across the balcony in an elegant waltz.

“I didn't know you danced,” she remarked.

“I did once,” he replied softly, briefly looking away from her. “In another life.”

And then his gaze met hers again, and she was happy to lose herself in the blue depths of his eyes as they continued to sway in the moonlight.

 


End file.
